


Lightning Struck

by PrincessPearl



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 2x10 episode tag, F/M, Oliver's apology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 03:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessPearl/pseuds/PrincessPearl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanting to kiss Felicity Smoak is as natural to him as breathing by this point. - set during 2x10, Oliver's apology to Felicity through his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lightning Struck

"I think you didn't have a problem with Felicity's performance until she met Barry Allen."

Diggle's knowing look at him as he walks out of the room leaves his earlier words ringing in Oliver's head. The truth of them seems to smack him in the face as his gaze lands on Felicity, sitting quietly in her chair, her legs crossed and eyes aimed away from him. He's watched her before, when he was sure she wasn't looking, but never in a room so filled with tension, and not even the kind that comes with adrenaline.

This is the kind of tension that comes with feelings, feelings which he still doesn't want to bring himself to accept. But he also can't bring himself to let Felicity, his Felicity, stay so quiet and sad.

Slowly, trying to sort out the tangle of emotions building in his chest, he swivels his chair back around to face his quiver on the desk. When he swallows, it's harder than it should be. It feels a little like words, regrets, and emotions dying in his throat and on his lips. In his next breath, he finds the words he'd been looking for spilling out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry."

He can sense her move her head towards him, even though he's not looking at her. The words resound in the deathly silent room for the heartbeats she remains silent, until she finally breaks it.

"Were you apologizing to me, or…were you talking to your quiver?"

Of course, she isn't going to let him do this halfway. He knows that; he knows her. Oliver takes a breath and makes himself stand.

"I didn't snap at my quiver," he says, his voice heavy with the memory of arguing with her, yelling at her, blaming her, and letting her walk away.

She seems suddenly even more sad than she had been, the emotions softening her around the edges, and he wants to kick himself for reminding her of their fight. "You kind of more than snapped," she points out quietly.

"I know," the words come out gruffly, frustration with himself filling his tone, as he moves to stand in front of her to deliver his next statement honestly and openly to her face. "And I'm sorry."

Her next breath is deep, her eyes fluttering closed for a second. The weight of his sincerity seems to settle around them like a fog. "I understand," she begins slowly, carefully, "that this Mirakuru thing has you freaked out."

His lips part then press together, a little incredulous that she's giving him an out for his behaviour. But he's more surprised by the part of him that so fiercely rejects her statement, because it's true in one sense and absolutely wrong in every other way. Mirakuru isn't why he dislikes her spending time with Barry Allen so much.

"And I have been in Central City…a lot," she continues, and he has to stop her because there is no way — no way he is letting her take any of the blame for this mess onto herself.

"Felicity, it's… it's not that," he murmurs, his weight shifting from foot to foot uneasily. He knows his entire body posture is uncomfortable, knows she can read him like a book, especially when he's being so obvious, but he continues on, taking a heavy breath to steel himself for the admission he knows she deserves.

"When you are there…" Oliver hesitates, finding the words caught in his throat. "Well, it just made me realize how much I need you here," he finishes, watching her intensely as she closes her eyes and nods.

"In the beg—in the beginning," he adds, embarrassed by the stammer in his voice. He's never been one to stutter nervously, even in front of a pretty girl, but this entire conversation coupled with Felicity sitting in front of him and staring up at him seems to be short-circuiting his brain. "I was just gonna do all of this by myself."

His eyes dart briefly around the foundry, thinking back to the time when he'd thought he would be alone. It was only a year ago, but it felt like lifetimes had passed since then. "And now with you and Diggle…" He trails off for a second, unsure how to best phrase his next sentiment. "I rely on you."

He can see the way her body lightens as she nods, clearly ready to forgive him as she moves to stand up and face him. "Does that mean I have a shot?" she says, a smile playing on her lips, and there's a seconds-long pause where his heart starts to hammer in his chest because is she asking if she has a shot with him? But she continues before he can blurt out anything stupid (because the answer to that would undeniably be yes), adding on, "At Employee of the Month?"

Her regular smile is back on her face, but he still can't lighten up, not while his heart's still racing. "No," he says simply, frowning a little at the thought. "Because you're not my employee." The idea that she might still think of herself as someone who worked for him, that spending time around him was her job simultaneously seems utterly absurd and induces a lead-like feeling in his stomach. Felicity is so much more.

"You're my partner," he finishes, looking back into her eyes. A slow smile, this one less teasing than earlier, spreads across her mouth as she nods. She seems far brighter now than she had before he apologized, and there's a sensation rather like butterflies unfurling inside him. Her eyes are a hopelessly pretty shade of blue in the light, and the bright pink of her lips is doing nothing to stop him from wanting to kiss her.

And he does want to kiss her. This isn't a new thing – wanting to kiss Felicity Smoak is as natural to him as breathing by this point – but the intensity of it surprises him. There's a second where he thinks he might actually find the courage to lean in and let his lips meet hers, but the courage leaves as fast as it appeared and he looks away.

"Barry's gonna wake up," he tells her quickly, trying to forget what had just happened or if she had noticed his internal turmoil – or the way his voice hardens around Barry's name purely on instinct. "And when he does, you will be there."

It's easy enough to imbue his usual strong and sure tone into his voice, but he doesn't expect the smile to fade from her face when he does. He'd thought mentioning Barry would make her light up – it certainly had, at one point. Before, well, before he let his jealousy get the better of him, probably.

She manages a little laugh, looking upward and away from him. "I finally have a guy who's interested in me and he gets struck by lightning," she laments, hands dropping down to her sides. "Ends up in a coma. Typical."

His breath comes out in a huff of laughter that doesn't feel genuine, even to his own ears. There's a not-insignificant part of him that wants to shake her because like hell Allen's the first guy who's interested in her. Oliver is living proof that he most certainly is not. He has to take a second to squash the emotions down before speaking again.

"Well, maybe he's dreaming about you," he offers quietly in comfort. Felicity doesn't look at him to reply, instead staring at his green jacket, seeming a little caught off-guard.

"You know, actually, there's conflicting cases about whether coma patients can in fact dream normally," she starts, looking up at him halfway through her babbling, "or if they're more like hallucinating – "

Oliver reaches out and places his hand gently on her shoulder, stopping her mid-word. Her eyes close for too long to be a regular blink as she relaxes under his touch. He wishes he could stop thinking about whether or not Barry Allen's touch makes her react like this, wishes he wasn't so gratified that he still can.

Her eyes are intense when they open to look at him, and he knows that she can read the emotions on his face as clearly as she has always been able to. Her lips twist into a small smile as they stare at each other for a moment that lasts maybe a bit too long to be just friendly.

"Thank you," she whispers, and he nods, allowing himself to return her smile before he turns and walks away to change back into his normal clothes.

Hopefully, she hasn't noticed the way his smile drops as soon as he looks away from her. Maybe she never will.


End file.
